Classic Mysteries

"Coffin, Scarcely Used"

A great many English mysteries from the "Golden Age" are set in what seem to be peaceful, lovely, bucolic small villages - there may be a few eccentrics around (and there is, generally, at least one murderer!), but the town itself, and its people, for the most part, are utterly charming.

And then there is the village of Flaxborough, which is described in Colin Watson's "Coffin, Scarcely Used " as being a "high-spirited town...like Gomorrah." It is a very funny mystery - in no small part because it is set in a truly awful town. There's a murder or two, a fine array of other illicit activities for the police to discover, marvellously unconcerned town officials, and a pretty interesting puzzle as well. You can listen to the full review on our latest podcast.

Colin Watson wrote eleven mysteries about Flaxborough and its inhabitants, of which this is the first. He also wrote a book of entertaining essays called "Snobbery With Violence: Crime Stories and Their Audience," now out of print, which looks at the classic mystery as a vehicle for social history. More on that later.

Aunt Dimity

If you're not familiar with the name of "Aunt Dimity," she's a character you might want to meet - even though she's dead.

She is, in fact, a character in a series of VERY cozy mysteries written by Nancy Atherton, and she never really appears physically. She communicates with us - or, really, with the central character and narrator - by writing in an old journal, or diary.

The series centers around the adventures of the narrator, Lori Shepard. When we first meet her, at the beginning of the series, she is destitute, living in the US. She learns that she has been left a legacy by a woman she thought was a made-up character - her mother's old friend Dimity, whose name she knew as "Aunt Dimity" from the stories her mother used to make up for her. Dimity lived and died in England. When Lori goes there to learn more, she discovers the old blue journal - and learns that Dimity, though dead, still had plenty to say to her through the journal. In that book, and in every book since the first one, we follow Lori's life, as she marries, becomes a mother and continues to find herself solving mysteries, usually in and around the small English village of Finch, where Lori now lives in Dimity's old house.

The latest book in this series - number 14, I believe - is "Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon," published just this year. There's even a Kindle edition,if you have a Kindle e-reader. Like most of the other books in the series, this is a very VERY gentle book indeed. As a rule, there is little bloodshed in an Aunt Dimity book. There is a great deal of conversation and gossip from well-drawn and generally pleasant characters, and while the dangers that Lori and her friends face are quite real, they are usually resolved without a great deal of violence.

In this book, a traveling Renaissance Fair comes to Finch. It is great fun - if very rowdy - and most of the villagers are happy to have the fair, with its assortment of actors, jugglers, jousters, magicians and wenches in town. But Lori discovers that something else appears to be going on behind the fun, and it may involve a murderous plot against the Fair's king and owner. Is there such a plot? Or is Lori's imagination working overtime again, as it has in past books? As always, Lori turns to Aunt Dimity, who exercises a certain Mycroft Holmes-like presence throughout these books as advisor and counsel.

No, it's not a classic mystery, with its supernatural overtones - but it is a warm and comfortable cozy mystery, just right for a couple of hours of relaxing pleasure and low-key suspense. The same is true of the entire Aunt Dimity Series. Lori, her husband, her children, her friends, the people of Finch, and, most certainly, Aunt Dimity are pleasant companions indeed. If you're looking for a series with little intrusive violence, you're very likely to enjoy these books.

Looking Back: "The Three Coffins"

Here's one of my favorite mysteries which, unhappily, remains out of print. John Dickson Carr is widely acknowledged as the master of the locked room/impossible crime mystery, and I have always thought that "The Three Coffins" is one of his best. There are two impossible murders, and Carr builds an almost unbearable atmosphere of suspense. And yet it is scrupulously fair; the reader is given all the clues needed to solve the mystery - but I'd bet very few readers actually can do so before all is explained. You can listen to my original podcast review here.

Carr begins this novel with a paragraph that is a direct challenge - he tells you exactly what he intends to do and invites you to see through his plotting. Here is the very first paragraph of the book:

To the murder of Professor Grimaud, and later the equally incredible crime in Cagliostro Street, many fantastic terms could be applied - with reason. Those of Dr. Fell's friends who like impossible situations will not find in his casebook any puzzle more baffling or more terrifying. Thus: two murders were committed, in such fashion that the murderer must not only have been invisible; but lighter than air. According to the evidence, this person killed his first victim and literally disappeared. Again according to the evidence, he killed his second victim in the middle of an empty street, with watchers at either end; yet not a soul saw him, and no footprint appeared in the snow.

Carr delivers on that promise. As I said It's worth the extra effort to find "The Three Coffins" and enjoy it.

"The Dream Detective"

"Moris Klaw! Moris Klaw! The devil's come for you!"

Visitors to Moris Klaw's shop in a dismal district of London were announced in this manner by his parrot. Moris Klaw is the central figure of "The Dream Detective," by Sax Rohmer. What is a "dream detective"? One who solves crimes through the aid of his own dreams.

Silly? A bit, perhaps. But in the early years of the 20th century, many fictional detectives had some peculiarity, something to make them stand out in the readers' minds. In the case of Moris Klaw, it was his reliance on his "scientific" theory and use of dreams. Author Sax Rohmer is far better known for his "Fu Manchu" thrillers, but the stories about Moris Klaw are quite memorable. You'll find a review of "The Dream Detective" on this week's Classic Mysteries podcast.

Now an apology: when I originally picked this book and recorded the podcast, it appeared that there was a version of the book in print, available through Amazon. That has since disappeared from the listing. If your favorite mystery bookstore has difficulty finding "The Dream Detective," check the link above - a number of Amazon's dealers appear to have copies available, and some of them are quite reasonable. Moris Klaw is a most unusual character, and he's worth knowing.

Falling Behind

The stack of books on my bedroom dresser, which I use as a library-in-waiting, continues to grow, much to the dismay of my wife. Not only do I have a very large stack of classic mysteries lined up for review on the podcast, I also have dozens of other mysteries which don't quite fit the classic mold, all waiting to be read. Each day the pile grows, as I fall farther behind.

I try to deal with some of those books, as I have time to read them, in posts on this blog. Some are classics, but long out of print; I just got an anthology of Perry Mason mysteries, for example, which are no longer in print (except for that anthology, a Mystery Guild edition). I do try to limit the podcast to the readily available classics, though I do cheat from time to time. Then, I have some Rumpole of the Bailey books waiting to be read and written about. I have a secret weakness for some cozies - Nancy Atherton's Aunt Dimity mysteries for example. I am fond of Alexander McCall Smith's "Number One Detective Agency" series. The list goes on.

I cite this growing backlog not so much to enlist your sympathy as to explain why I don't seem to post more frequently. I have more than enough books and scripts for quite a few Monday classics to come - the trick will be squeezing in some of these others, even just as written reviews rather than podcasts. Your patience is appreciated.

"Green for Danger"

This is the kind of book that reminds me why I am so hooked on good, classic mysteries. "Green for Danger," by Christianna Brand, is considered a classic of the Golden Age. Set in the blitz, that tragic and deadly series of German bombing raids on England during World War II, it is a story of an impossible and apparently motiveless crime: a patient dies on the operating table at a makeshift field hospital. It seems to be a routine death - unfortunate, certainly, but there appears to be nothing sinister about it. But then a member of the medical team claims to have evidence proving that it was murder - only to be murdered, in turn.

All this happens in the course of a well-written, fully developed novel with believable, sympathetic characters - and while we are soaking up the atmosphere and enjoying those characters, the author suddenly produces a series of plot twists and developments which will leave readers dazzled. And yet the deceit is scrupulously fair. The author goes out of her way to give us the information we need to solve the puzzle ourselves, but she disguises it so cleverly that I suspect most readers will be completely fooled - as I was.

You can listen to a full audio review on this week's podcast.

I am delighted to see that this book is still in print - and in an inexpensive mass-market paperback edition at that. I can't say it strongly enough: you owe it to yourself to read this one. It's really that good.

TV Is the New Reading

A quick glance at some of the titles I've reviewed here on the Classic Mysteries podcast should make it clear that I'm not a huge fan of violence. That may sound odd coming from a mystery fan, but what I mean is that I prefer my violence offstage (or off-page) rather than in a spotlight.

That's one of the reasons why I don't watch that much television. Consequently, I miss what I am told are excellent TV shows, many of them mysteries of some variety. Fortunately, Terry J. Aman, the features editor of the Minot (N.D.) Daily News, is far less squeamish than I, and he shares his delight (and occasional frustrations) with such programs on his podcast, "TV Is the New Reading," and in his blog/column for his paper. I commend them both to your consideration!

"The Mystery at Number 31, New Inn"

For this week's Classic Mysteries podcast, we return to the gaslit streets of Edwardian London and the scientific and legal detective work of Dr. John Thorndyke. He was the creation of R. Austin Freeman, the author of "The Mystery At Number 31, New Inn," first published in 1911 (although written several years before in novella form). Dr. Thorndyke went on to become a star detective of the early Golden Age.

The story begins as a romantic thriller: a young doctor is called to the bedside of an unknown patient, brought there in a closed carriage and without knowing the true identities of anyone involved. After a series of adventures, he enlists the help of Dr. Thorndyke, who is already puzzling over a problem which soon proves to be related to the first, involving a strangely mis-written will. There are cryptic clues - my favorite is an elaborate cuneiform inscription which proves to be hanging upside-down in the home of a central character.

It's a solid, well-constructed mystery, featuring Dr. Thorndyke, who became a favorite among mystery readers through much of the first half of the 20th century. You can listen to the full review here.

A footnote: I see from the cover of the edition linked here (which is the one I possess) marks it as a book suitable for Young Adults. While I'd be the last to argue against that, I do have to wonder what today's teens-to-college crowd, nurtured on CSI and such, would make of the pace and methods of Edwardian detectives...

Arthur Upfield and the Perfect Murder

Sometimes an author can be too successful in coming up with an ingenious murder plot. Apparently, that happened to Arthur W. Upfield, the author of a series of fine classic mysteries set in Australia and featuring half-caste Detective-Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte, or "Bony" to his friends.

Upfield spent a fair amount of time wrestling with a plot idea for one of his early novels, "The Sands of Windee," which was published in 1931. He was looking for a plot which would allow Bony to tackle what he would call "the perfect murder" - a murder in which there was no body - and, so, no proof a crime had been committed.

While working on the plot in the late 1920s, he had a number of conversations with authors and other friends and acquaintances about his ideas. Unfortunately, one of the people he spoke with, an itinerant stockman named Sonny Rowles, apparently decided to put that perfect murder plot into operation.

Rowles apparently carried out three murders in 1929 and 1930, known as the "Murchison murders," but they were imperfect enough for him to be caught, tried and executed. Upfield had to testify at the trial about his conversations with Rowles, showing that Rowles had known about the perfect murder plot and how it worked. Wikipedia has a fascinating article with full details on the crimes and the Upfield connection.

As for "The Sands of Windee," it's an excellent book, though out of print; Amazon's second-hand affiliates may be your best bet for finding it.

"Invisible Green": Locked Rooms, Impossible Crimes, and a Murder Club

I just finished reading "Invisible Green," a 1977 mystery by John Sladek, a writer who was better known for his science fiction books. He only wrote a couple of mysteries, which is a pity: "Invisible Green" is a well-plotted (and fairly convoluted) impossible crime mystery.

It's about a group of seven people who used to belong to a club called "The Seven Unravellers," a group which used to meet during the early days of World War II to discuss fictional murder mysteries. Many years later, one member of the group tries to pull the six surviving members together for a reunion. Before that can happen, though, one of them dies mysteriously, after babbling about visits and threats from a "Mr. Green."

It turns out that each of the members has had what might be considered a colorful warning: one member has an orange thrown through a window; another finds a page from the Yellow Pages pinned to the door with a knife; a third has violets stolen from her garden.

The police call it a natural death. But soon there will be more murders. And a freelance detective, Thackeray Phin, must try to solve what appears to be a motiveless string of impossible crimes. One death, for example, takes place in a locked room. Another took place in a house that was closely watched. Is the murderer, the elusive Mr. Green, really invisible?

Phin does eventually manage to solve the problem. Unfortunately, this is one of those books where the police behave with such overwhelming (and unrealistic) stupidity that the reader automatically discounts their intervention. But clues are fairly presented to the reader, who should be able to do better than the police and follow Phin to the right answer.

Unfortunately, "Invisible Green" is out of print, although Amazon does have some copies for sale through its second-hand booksellers. For fans of impossible crimes/locked rooms, it's worth trying to find a copy at the link.